


secondary succession

by birdhymns



Category: Destiny (Video Games), Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/F, Slow Burn, destiny au, lowkey highkey bodyguard au, on a huge technicality..., the number of Capitalised Things in destiny made me uncomfy writing this lmao, with a hint of immortal and reincarnation au to taste
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-12
Updated: 2020-05-29
Packaged: 2021-01-29 14:14:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21411499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/birdhymns/pseuds/birdhymns
Summary: The ecological succession that results from an event, reducing an already established ecosystem to a smaller population.
Relationships: Hilda Valentine Goneril/Lysithea von Ordelia
Comments: 15
Kudos: 33





	1. Chapter 1

TYPE: LIVE SURVEILLANCE FEED

[CONTINGENCY RECORD]

PARTIES: One[1]. One [1] Ghost-type, designate Latif [la]

ASSOCIATIONS: Light; Hive; Deathsinger; Deathsong; Lysithea-3; Ghosts; Wuid

//AUDIO PRESERVED//

//TRANSCRIPT FOLLOWS…/

[la:01] I’ve managed to lead the Hive away from Lysithea for the moment.

[la:02] Maybe we could’ve escaped together, but that Hive song… they were gaining too quickly. And I, brilliant, damning beacon of Light that I am, was basically shouting, “We’re over here!”

[la:03] If any Ghost receives this… look out for Lysithea-3. See if you can contact Wuid. They’ll be able to keep an eye on her.

[la:04] Tell Lys…

[la:05] Tell her I was proud to be her Ghost, every time.

* * *

Lysithea lets her head fall forward against the shelves, the miniature black holes she’d summoned to her hand winking away.

Normally she’d be studiously poking at the Light, disseminating the characteristics that separated its elements, but the air of the Tower wraps tight about her thoughts, threatening to crush her into a ball with no breathing room until she stands straight and spins on her heel. The sound of her boots echo before and behind.

She breathes deep, but there’s little solace in that. The heaviness threads through the air, and Lysithea entertains the thought of grabbing a ship in the hangar and just flying, anywhere but here. But such a simple escape wouldn’t change the fact Cayde had died.

Lysithea walks past huddles of people, Guardians and non-Guardians alike, doing her best to seal her attention away from their worried whispers. They only strengthen the tension running round her head. She quickens her steps, until she ascends the final set of stairs and lays her eyes on Ikora.

“I want a ship,” are the first words from her mouth when Ikora finally registers her presence.

A small frown. “Lysithea—”

“I know, I know that combat’s out of the question. But I need this. I’m not going to chase Uldren.” Everyone already knew the Young Wolf had gone already anyway. A silent hunting storm. “But I need to get out of the Tower.”

Ikora sighs. She’s looked worn of late, and today is no different. “And if trouble does crop up? Without your Ghost...”

“I still have my guns. The occasional grenade, if less than other Guardians, and the bomb so long as I keep my distance.”

Ikora turns to sweep her eyes over the City. Lysithea remains where she is. The years in the Tower have granted her plenty of time to understand how Ikora works, between analysis of the information the Hidden bring in and the way she speaks with new and old Guardians. Lysithea knows the line of tension bending her back as well as her own, and there is no fast-talking Hunter Vanguard to straighten the lines out anymore.

“No seeking trouble.”

“None.”

“…We can’t afford to lose any more people.” She turns to Lysithea, hand already raised to stop any protest. “So I am going to find someone for you to rendezvous with. I know you haven’t had a fireteam to speak of in, some time…”

“Since the moon. It’s okay.”

Ikora looks at her long. “Either way, it won’t hurt to have a second set of eyes. Amanda will set you up with a ship. If you are intent on leaving, then I’ll set you with the purpose of understanding these new enemies in the Tangled Shore.”

The relief cuts through Lysithea and she can breathe again, the heavy sorrow temporarily relieved. “Thank you. I won’t let you down.”

“I trust your abilities.” She draws her hands over the newest reconnaissance results, and it comes to a stop over scrawl Lysithea can’t discern from her current angle. There’s the image of a large Eliksni holding a staff—or at least, she thinks it’s one, its body seems too big for the frame most Eliksni had, and there’s something like a mask covering its entire head. “Go, and return to us safely.”

Lysithea nods, heart full. Cayde had been the one to come chat when research went nowhere, and they’d thrown around countless ludicrous plans to break out of the Tower to shake off the itch that rode on them both. But he hadn’t been the only one to help. Ikora had opened up her personal library to allow her research of her Light, given her tasks to devote her energy to, instead of driving herself mad with inaction in the Tower. She can’t help but give Ikora a small bow. “I will.”

* * *

Lysithea absorbs the paths before her, the buildings thrown together and pushing into the crag that made up the Shore. She lingers only a moment before searching for an ideal place to stay. It takes a little exploration, but soon she jumps down to a perch that she can walk around on, a satisfying view of almost the entire area below. Allowing herself a smile, she cracks open her case, pulls out the Persuader Ikora gave and settles down. D.A.R.C.I. she leaves beside her. And she waits.

Three prisoner pods crash. One time Guardians below her manage to freeze the massive Captain, the other two someone gets trigger-happy and kills the Captain instead. There’s plenty of gesticulation after those. For her part, Lysithea stays where she is, occasionally assisting with a careful shot at the pod vents, and only once the area’s cleared does she descend back down to pick up ammo.

She’s half a mind to call Ikora and double-check she’s in the right place when there’s the flash and spin of silver spotlights, and a Hunter materialises below. Pinks, light purples, some silver, pearlescent metal. Orpheus Rig. The Hunter doesn't immediately summon a Sparrow, instead spinning slow while sauntering along the path, and Lysithea catches sight of two crimson bands set in an upside-down V on her cloak, set in a circle of indigo edged with white. Loss of a fireteam, maybe.

The Hunter jumps onto one of the buildings in the centre of the area, uncaring of the Eilksni now eyeing them. Cupping their hands in front of their face, they call, "Hellooo? Ikora's mystery escort requester?"

For her, then. Lysithea stands, tucking Persuader back in her case before jumping down. A little boost halfway down, and then one right before she hits the ground, just to be sure she's not going to reduce her ankles to sheared polymer and wire. She waves, then points to the path to Spider's hideout. No point in standing where they'd get shot, even if the other Guardian could probably clean the whole area out for a few minutes.

Lysithea removes her helmet, once she's sure they're out of any dangerous angles, and offers her hand. This close, she can see how tall and broad this Hunter stands. "Nice to meet you. I'm Lysithea."

The Hunter pulls down hood and helmet too, revealing pensive eyes, and pink hair. Dyed? Lysithea wasn't sure where a human'd get their hands on dye in this day and age. Unless Tess had expanded services while she wasn't looking.

A hum draws her from her thoughts, and she looks up to find the Hunter with arms crossed, head tilted to one side. Still staring. Their Ghost is out too, shell striped with dark and light purple. "What?"

"Oh, nothing. Just surprised Bray made Exos in short."

Lysithea glares. She hasn't made any rounds in Crucible in ages, for blatant reasons, but right now, she's sorely tempted to drag this Hunter to Shaxx and let them know exactly what she still packs in her frame.

They raise their hands, give Lysithea a winsome smile. "Don't mean anything wrong by it! It's just kinda weird. Most Exo look like they came off an assembly line, y'know? Really big differences aren't common. But I guess if you were short before than you'd be more used to a similar bod—"

"Please stop." Lysithea pinches her nose, and wonders what Ikora's thought process was, asking this Hunter to help. "I'm well aware of my stature. Right now there's more important matters. What did Ikora tell you?"

"That you were doing some work on the Scorn here, and that you could use a fireteam."

"I have no Ghost," Lysithea replies, and she swims past the flash of inevitable sorrow, the glance at their own Ghost. "So I typically do research in the Tower."

"But," the Hunter recovering quick, draws out the word, "But, you're very clearly not in the Tower now."

"Still doing some research." Lysithea breathes out long. "Can't exactly be allowed on a strike if there's a real risk of truly dying. So, I'm trying to figure out these Scorn. Killing them will only be a temporary measure if they don't stay such." 

"Sounds like less work than the Nightfall protocols they usually try to stick me with!" They grin, stretching their arms above their head. "Sweet deal to me."

"We'll see about that." Wry, Lysithea asks, "When's the last time you worked with someone who wasn't immortal?"

"Never...? Wait, no, Devrim!"

"On the field and not just in your ear."

"Mm, yup, nope, that's a never. During the Red War I was out on my own."

"It changes the formula." Lysithea turns and heads back the way they came, the iridescent edge of her robe flaring out behind her. "You'll see what work it is." 

"Eh. I'll still hold out hope for 'less'." Motioning to the far end of the cavern they say, "If we head up the air shaft at the far end, we'll be in an area the Scorn like to use for rituals. Sometimes. Other times we just get Eliksni flying in and trying to grab up some glimmer."

"As good a place to start as any." Lysithea hefts her case onto her back, boots lightly thumping against the trampled down rocks.

There's silence for a handful of beats, then the sound of a Sparrow summoned. The Hunter glides in beside her, gestures, petals falling to the earth. "Be easier if we go like this, hey?"

Pride holds Lysithea's tongue and feet still. She wants to say she can just walk, but a Sparrow is simply faster, the logical choice. On the other hand, while she's heard other Guardians talk about riding along with friends standing, crouching, dancing on their Sparrow's nose, she's wary about how well this Hunter will see with her robes blowing in their face.

Their voice cuts into her thoughts. "If you're_ that _worried about my driving abilities, I can lay off the boosters." 

"...You can use the boosters." Lysithea steps closer and settles just behind the Hunter, double-checking her feet and robes aren't in the way of any moving or burning parts before settling her hands on their shoulders. "Just remember that if I end up dying out here, Ikora's probably going to take your head."

That earns a laugh, the Hunter looking over their shoulder with a mixture of amusement and mischief. "Oh, she told me. Don't worry, I haven't written out my will yet."

"Which could just mean you're a Hunter with terrible foresight."

The only response is a cackle and the Sparrow flying forward, and Lysithea instinctively bends her knees. She shouts to be heard over the rush of wind in their faces, "I never got your name!"

"Hilda! You?"

"Lysithea-4!"

Hilda goes silent after that, and throws on another burst of speed as they swing past a couple Eliksni and Scorn shooting at each other. Lysithea is forced to focus on keeping her balance, leaning as Hilda turns. She ducks a shot from a Vandal, the Sparrow bobbing in response, but Hilda's quick to correct, and without a scratch on them, they leap from the Sparrow into the rising air current.

Lysithea watches a couple flower petals whirl up past them. "Do those ever end up getting burnt?"

Hilda somersaults slow as they rise. "Nah. Even if they did though, I'd keep using this one. Girl's gotta stick to her aesthetics."

Hilda points when they clear the air shaft and the tunnel into the gulch proper. "Over there, with the very conspicuous ring of rocks. They try to summon stuff, we put them back in the dirt. Rock. Ether. Whatever, you get it."

"And that's it?"

"Well, no, but the extra stuff is finicky. Especially if you're going to be hanging back?" She glances at Lysithea's case.

Lysithea grimaces. "Not much choice in that matter. I have two sniper rifles, sidearm for emergencies."

"Not the best for what's going to happen, mm." Still, Hilda nods amiably, looking about the area. "Well, if others show up that'll be great, but I'll try to be thorough. It'd suck if we had to repeat it." She brings out a gun with, for some reason, four barrels. "Maybe pick a ridge while we wait?"

"Mm." Lysithea finds and settles on an outcropping she can keep her back against while keeping an eye on proceedings, readying D.A.R.C.I. Hilda adjusts her pants—swapped her Rig out for some grips that Lysithea can't make out at this distance. She snaps a thumbs up in Lysithea's direction, then makes a chair for herself while they wait, one arm slung over the back.

Lysithea watches, wonders. She's used to blasé Guardians, and she knows Ikora wouldn't put her in danger with someone completely negligent. But she can't pin down if this stranger going to be more help or hindrance.

Then again, she purportedly got through the Red War alone, and that would've been a peculiar way to brag.

Flares of Ether rising into the air rouse her, and she watches torn up Servitors materialise, Scorn following a moment later. She notes the odd shadows to the Ether, the runes surrounding the central Servitor. And she watches Hilda shoot around shields, nail heads, focusing on a larger, shielded Scorn. She fires point-blank, dodges cleanly away when it reaches to swipe at her, shooting again even as she springs to her feet. A consummate Hunter.

Soon the large one falls, and before it disintegrates to Ether Hilda tosses a grenade at the Servitor it stood beside. Lysithea frowns, and focuses through her scope. She sees orbs of white Ether escape the Servitor, only to wink out as the grenade burns. The few that fly out of range, Hilda shoots.

She does this two more times, and Lysithea can hear a faint whoop from Hilda as the biggest Scorn she's seen yet materialises, with some sort of mechanical backpack and a launcher in hand—she'll have to figure out how the corrupted Ether creates those. And all the helmets.

Satisfied with what she's seen, Lysithea unloads half a magazine into the Scorn's head. Half, because Hilda tethers it, hits twice with a rocket launcher, and then finishes with a shotgun.

So maybe Lysithea is impressed. A little.

Hilda turns from the engrams dropped as Lysithea approaches, pulling her mask off again to smile. "That was some nice shooting there. Good to see being stuck in the Tower hasn't made you rusty."

"I practiced a bit before you came." Lysithea glances over the now faded runes in the earth, pulling out a datapad she brought, before her eyes snap up to Hilda again. "Was that an Exo joke?"

Hilda just beams, before walking around the circle—and putting some distance between her and Lysithea. "So, what did you make of everything?"

She squints a moment longer, but focuses on the remains of the ritual, drawing already. "They take regular Ether and change it, probably by mixing it with their own and whatever magic animates them. As for what changed the Ether initially... I'd have to double-check to be sure, but... I think there's a hint of the Darkness to it. Not quite like the Taken, and definitely not like the Hive, but... well. We're going to be here a while. Going to give Ikora as complete a report as I can."

"Mkay." Hilda pulls out a chair again, settling where she can watch Lysithea work. For a few moments she's quiet, then: "So, feel free to tell me off or throw me down one of the pits that just mean falling forever here if this is way too personal, but, about your Ghost...."

Lysithea nods, keeping her eyes on the rune she's currently sketching. "It's fine. I don't actually know." Erase, redraw the stroke. "It was on the assault on the Moon. The only thing people can tell me is that I was found alone, and in the middle of a reset. I only woke up back at the Tower. So... not hard to guess something happened to, her." A couple notes on the Eliksni characters it resembles. "Seems like the people I typically teamed up with during that time also ended up lost then, too, so I don't have much to go on in terms of who I was before. I was as blank as an Exo Guardian could come, outside the records 3 made while researching. And even that tells only so much."

This time Hilda is silent so long Lysithea finishes inscribing a quarter of the circle before she speaks again. Quiet, with blatant effort to keep her voice light. "She must've been one hell of a Ghost."

Lysithea pauses. Swallows. Continues her sketch. "Yeah. Just wish I knew what she sounded like." Before silence can grow too thick around them, she says, "You were pretty good out there, cleaning up all those Scorn by yourself. Don't think we'll have much issue it you work like that."

"Mm? ...Oh, why, thank you!" And like that, her breeziness is back. "I figured you'd want to check out some of the other areas while we're here, so you know, put a little more back into it."

"That why you saved the grenades for the Servitors?"

"You got it. It's stressful to shoot them all down by yourself other—hey!"

There's the rush of air, a pop, two shots, and the sound of an impact. Lysithea blinks, looks up, and Hilda is no longer in her chair, but at her back with her left arm raised, handcannon in her right. A distant Vandal crumples. 

Hilda scans the area, before stowing her gun, shaking out her left hand as she grumbles, "You'd think they'd figure out that if we're not actively going after them, it's better to just ignore us."

"Did you get hit? Let me see." Standing, Lysithea takes and turns her arm, blinking when she finds only a small mark. "Guess it just scraped you...?"

"Guess so. I'm a pretty lucky gal." Hilda flashes a smile as she lets her arm drop, then leans to look at Lysithea's datapad. "Got everything you need?"

"I think so. I'd like to see if I can't collect some of that Ether for testing back at the Tower." Picking up her case, Lysithea considers Hilda for a moment. "If everything goes well, would you want ramen when we get back to the Tower?"

Hilda perks. "In the bazaar? Absolutely. I haven't had a bowl of their stuff in ages."

"'Ages'? Just how old are you?"

"I'm young in spirit," Hilda solemnly replies, and then she summons her Sparrow. "Well, come on now! No time for dilly-dallying."

"I see you're easily motivated." Lysithea takes her position behind Hilda, anchoring herself again on her shoulders.

She winks. "Helps when the gifts come from a cutie." 

Any smart reply Lysithea might've come with gets blown away by the Sparrow surging forward, so she only huffs to herself. It could be worse, she supposes. Hilda's amusing, and she didn't press when Lysithea moved past talk about her Ghost. It's refreshing.

So long as she doesn't make further short jokes, Lysithea decides, she'll keep Hilda around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm hella nervous putting this out to be frank, but I hope the ride will be enjoyable. And also not delayed too long by university work...
> 
> Shoutout to yash and BD for looking parts over. And giving me Ideas.
> 
> Hilda is big and buff because QuickYoke owns my soul with this pairing. If you're somehow here without reading 'two, across', go to! 
> 
> Hilda's shaders: Arctic Pearl, Nebula Rose. Sparrow: Undeterred. Ghost shell: Lilac Bell.
> 
> Lysithea's shaders: Melchizedek Bramble.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Terrible noodle-eating methods, memories that aren't one's own memories, per se, and messing with mechanisms without knowing ahead of time what they do.

Research goes well in the Shore, and Lysithea doesn't see any issues with continuing to work with Hilda, which is what she tells Ikora upon return. She seems pleased, takes Lysithea's reports to compile with the rest of the intel, and gives them new orders: go to the Dreaming City and assist the Awoken with the Taken now swarming through the city.

After, of course, a solid meal.

"I've missed this," are Hilda's fervent words as she takes the steaming bowl between her hands and lifts it for a large gulp of broth. A gusty sigh as she sets the bowl down with a neat clack, and a tap of her chopsticks to align them before she whirls them into their proper positions. "Can't exactly make a ramen broth in your ship."

"…Would you even bother?" Lysithea takes a bite of her egg, letting the taste of the cured, slightly runny yolk roll over her before adding a spoonful of soup. The spice warms her mouth, but not to the point of being unable to taste the slight smokiness from the bones the shop uses.

"I would not!" Hilda agrees, breeziness undeterred by Lysithea's arid amusement. If anything, it only boosts her mood. She picks up some noodles, and bites when she has exactly a mouthful, letting the rest splash back into her bowl instead of pulling more in. And does it again. Lysithea can't help but stare, waffling between pure bafflement and mild indignancy. Hilda doesn't seem to notice, and the noodles in her bowl grow shorter in staggered waves. "In any case, I wouldn't be able to do it nearly as good as they do here. And they don't share the recipe."

Lysithea wants to reply, she does, but all she can ask next is, "Do you actually eat your noodles like that, or are you only looking to provoke reactions?"

"Is it working?" Hilda winks, of all things, and takes another bite while still looking at her. Lysithea has to resist the urge to wrest her chopsticks away and rap her knuckles with them. It won't do anything, not with the armour, nevermind that she's a Guardian. But it makes her feel better to think about it.

To resist further temptation she settles for turning away and focusing on her own bowl, though there's no way for her to ignore Hilda's snicker.

When she's nearly finished with her bowl there's a tap on her shoulder, and she glances over to find Hilda grinning, spoon and chopsticks in hand, a similarly-drained bowl before her, save for the dozens of noodle scraps still sunk in broth. She takes a spoonful. She drains the spoon of the broth. And then, she plucks one piece of noodle from it with her chopsticks and swallows it. Then another.

Lysithea stares frozen for seven seconds. The top half of her face still feels jammed when she says, "Do that again and I will order enough to feed all of the Praxic Order, throw you off the Tower, and leave you to face the bill alone."

Hilda pouts, eyes casting toward the ceiling as she mourns, "Where's the fun in that?"

Lysithea isn't fooled. "You got your reaction, now finish the bowl so we can go and I can bury this memory. Unlike you, I actually have to walk to the hangar to get into my ship, and I'd rather not further subject anyone else to the sight of you eating noodles."

"And if I do decide to stay and order another bowl to do just that?" She leans forward as if conspiring with Lysithea, expression impish.

"Your next ten resurrections will be because I've shoved a Void grenade into you and all your atoms have been thrown apart."

She throws her head back and laughs. It's a brassy, full sound, and it leaves Lysithea filled with a mix of irritation, exasperation, and a twist running through the muddle. Death threats are toothless among Guardians—probably why they come so easily with Hilda's antics. But her laugh reminds Lysithea of Shaxx', when someone's steamrolling in Crucible. He'd told her once, when she was still relearning the Tower and her life, that she'd been one of the finest examples of what an inspired Warlock could do.

The memory and lack still twinge, now and then. But she repeats the familiar act of gathering all into a hard lump in her chest and expelling it with a long breath, then focusing on some detail. In the moment, it's the bit of red she can see on Hilda's cloak. She wonders who Hilda's memorialising.

By that point Hilda calms enough to grin and say, "You drive a tough bargain!" before she picks up the bowl with her hands to finish the last, and her Ghost bobs towards the proprietor to transmat the sizable sealed tub of broth that they'd filled for Hilda.

As they walk away Lysithea asks, "Why bother with that, when you could fly in for a meal?"

"Mm." She shrugs. "I don't like having to come by the Tower more than I have to. I'd rather hear what I gotta do on the line and y'know, go to it. Find more stuff to do while I'm out doing that. Has it perks. But, next thing you know, I'm out jammed up in some far-off sector and craving some broth with no way to get it."

"Is it so bad to stop by?"

Hilda flashes a smile. "You know Hunters. Happiest not walled up like a Titan, and letting others do all the debate-y management of keeping people happy. Though I'll admit I'm way on the far side of the spectrum."

"When's the last time you came back to the Tower?"

"After the Red War started, to figure out what the heck was going on with my Light." She takes the steps two at a time. "Course, I had to take it slow and be all sneaky, so by the time I made it back, that wolf pup Guardian had already taken care of everything."

"The Young Wolf, you mean."

"Yeah, so, pup!"

"…You really have a deathwish." Lysithea shakes her head and notes to not stand near Hilda should they cross paths with Byleth again. They probably wouldn't get angry, few things could genuinely get under their skin—even when Lysithea had hailed them in the middle of their hunt for Uldren Sov in the Shore, they'd been patient in talking and shown no sign of irritation—but their Ghost, Sothis, came from the opposite end of the scale, untempered passion and snark in spades. Lysithea had no desire to be caught in that potential blast zone.

Hilda smiles and winks again in response.

As they head out into the courtyard, Banshee looks up from the rifle he's working on to motion to Lysithea. "Warlock, you still got that grenade launcher? I've gotten the parts for the modifications you wanted."

Bemusement catches Lysithea; comprehension comes a beat later and steadies her once again. "You already finished that job for me, Banshee. I rely on D.A.R.C.I. these days."

Banshee's brow furrows, but his expression clears after a few moments. "Right, sorry. Memory's not what it used to be."

"It's alright." She gives a wave with one hand and a quick smile, continuing on to the hangar. "I'll come by for maintenance on her later."

"Yeah. Good luck out there on the Moon."

"…Right."

Hilda stays a few minutes longer, and when she catches up to Lysithea, she hefts an Edge Transit, testing the feel in her hand with a hum before she stows it. For a few beats the only sound is their boots on the metal grates and their responding shake. Then Hilda says, "I'm gonna guess that you haven't been to the Moon yourself."

"No. I wasn't fit to assist in dealing with Crota's forces, after all." Lysithea pushes a short laugh out of her chest. "It's funny, isn't it? Banshee is the person, of all people, who tells me the most about what Lysithea-3 was like outside of generalisations. She used a grenade launcher now and then. She liked snipers for long-range engagements, pulses for flexibility. Presumably her fireteam let her keep to ideal distances." Lysithea realises her words are beginning to run off on their own, so she finishes hastily. "Little details like that."

Hilda mercifully nods, mercifully remains on the surface subject and doesn't cut to what wears it. She waves to Amanda as she asks, "Nothing short-ranged?"

"She had her share of shotguns in the vaults. Before the Red Legion destroyed them, anyway."

Another nod, a sage-like expression on Hilda's face. "Nothing quite like being chased down by a determined Warlock with a shotgun and a grenade ready."

The laugh comes easily, if wry. "Why can I picture you infuriating so many in Crucible?"

"You Warlocks are the most fun to rile up, what can I say?"

"If you have that much fun with it, you should ask Ikora to fight you."

"Now, see, I like to rile, but I also like to win. My pride is a gentle marshmallow."

Lysithea rolls her eyes as she ascends the ramp into her ship. ”Right, like the rest of you."

"Well… parts." The too-pleased curl of her words is blatant. When Lysithea turns around to glare, Hilda's already transmatting away.

Lysithea mutters about Hunters having to have the last word during the entire ascent out of the atmosphere.

When they both reach orbit, Hilda establishes a link with Lysithea's ship comms. "So. Dreaming City…ever deal with non-Guardian Awoken?"

"Just Petra Venj, while she was in the City. Beyond that, no. You?"

"Met a few Corsairs on some errands, wandered into Reef territory while I was away and got turned around by some, mm, eloquent patrols. Been kinda fun to see the Reef with you…even if the Shore's only the outskirts, really."

Lysithea nods, an idle hum to acknowledge as she readies her ship for acceleration. Then she blinks. Realisation percolates in slowly. "Being treated as a trespasser…that was before the Wolves' rebellion." She stares at Hilda's ship, though its swept-back wings give away nothing. "And if our work in the Shore was the first time—Hilda, how long have you been away?"

There's the crackle of a huff, then, "I told you, I'm on the far side of the spectrum. Don't like being tied up in City shenanigans and politics."

"But even then that's, years? And you didn't return to the City at any point between?"

"Never said I didn't visit."

"But if you had been back after the Wolves rebelled then you would have heard that the Queen had opened the Reef, and someone like you would've never missed the chance to go somewhere you'd been kicked out of before. Especially with the promise of rewards that the Queen made."

There's a long silence, and belatedly Lysithea realises she might have prodded for deeper secrets than Hilda was willing to part with. But as she opens her mouth to take back the questions, Hilda laughs. It's more an expulsion of air than anything, but it's amused nonetheless. "Forgot what it was like to get a Warlock examination."

She flusters. "Sorry."

"You probably would've figured something out eventually." Lysithea imagines a shrug, and she relaxes a hair when Hilda adds, "Not that big of a deal anyway, so…yea, I was away before that."

The thought flits through about what Hilda would consider a big deal to tell, but Lysithea brushes it away, retreating to what she hopes is a safer topic. “How did Ikora find you for this, then?”

“I did stick around a little more closely to the City after the Red War, but…Cayde, if I had to guess. I’ve done scouting work for him before, had to have kept track of all us Hunters somehow. Maybe Ikora found some of his caches. Or maybe Cayde was being a gossip again, I can see Ikora remembering random Hunters he’s talked about. Did you know there’s a Nightstalker prowling around Nessus’ core?”

“Vaguely. She never stayed in the City long, just came to give reports.”

“You get it then.” Hilda pauses, and when she next speaks, almost absentmindedly says, “Next Vanguard is gonna have big shoes to step up to.”

“…Yes.” Lysithea brushes her fingers over the edge of her armrest and the dashboard before taking a deep breath. “But that’s not for us to determine. Our task right now is to help assess and deal with the Taken threat in the Dreaming City.”

There’s the sound of Hilda rapping something metal twice—her mask, or maybe her chestplate. “You’re the boss, Lysie.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Then… how about, 'Lysie, ma’am'?”

“No,” Lysithea growls, and she pulls her ship into motion.

Hilda cackles as she follows.

* * *

When they first arrive, Lysithea feels like one of the City children at Dawning celebrations, eyes wide in trying to take everything in. She’s reassured by the fact Hilda and her Ghost are much the same, marveling at all the newness. By degrees they process, and their interests hone in on particulars. Ovoid, shining structures that resist gun, grenade, and Light, despite Hilda’s and Lysithea’s best efforts. Trees as old as their City. The Taken energy that clings to the place, Blights that Lysithea is careful not to step too close to. And cat statues that take mint as offerings and leave armour and guns behind.

Lysithea pokes her new sniper rifle to make sure it’s real.

“Gotta appreciate their aesthetic,” Hilda murmurs, head craned backward to take in the massive statues they walk past. “Giant marble-ish statues of, tech witches or queens or whomever? Nice.”

“Quite. It’d be nice to see this place without all the Taken, though.” Lysithea revels a moment, in the feeling of the carefully smoothed stone. It’d be wonderful to just, rest here and think.

“No arguments there.” Hilda hums as two Corsairs come into view. She gives them a little wave before glancing down at Lysithea. “I’m gonna go see what’s up ahead, ‘kay?”

“I’ll be with you in a bit.” Lysithea takes a few extra moments to watch Hilda skip up the steps, before approaching the Awoken. “What is this place?”

“If you keep going,” they jerk their head after Hilda’s retreating back, “You’ll be at the Blind Well. It’s a dimensional rift generator. To where, we’re honestly not sure. The Queen built it ages ago, and we’ve been unable to determine where it goes.”

Lysithea’s curiosity burns about her tongue and her chest. “How does it work?”

“Paracausal forces, a lot of them.”

“…It works off of Light?” There’s a prickle of unease behind Lysithea’s spine. “Does it, consume it?”

“Not going to hurt you, but, be careful about what you do with it. Who knows what sort of dimension’s on the other side of the door, yea?”

She pauses to consider this, head bowing into her hand as she thinks, mind sorting through what she’d heard of the Queen, why someone like her would have created a mechanism like this, and for what.

A sound zips through the hall, and Lysithea jolts, her eyes snap to the top of the steps. Her feet are already moving while she tries to make sense of what she just heard—it’d been so quick, like energy had burst and been immediately sucked out of hearing.

When she sees what waits where the hall opens up, she makes a strangled noise. “Hilda, what did you _ do_?”

Through the odd fog Lysithea can hear Hilda yelp from somewhere straight ahead, “Nothing! I just put one of those charges we found into a receptacle thingie here and next thing I know this ‘primary well’ is charging and—oh, nope!”

Shots ring out, and Lysithea grinds her jaws together before charging, pulling her sidearm out as she goes. The fog clings to her unnaturally, but she ignores it, leaping into the growing dome ahead to find Hilda punching out a Wraith, not giving it an opportunity to swing at her with its torches. Several Stalkers lie at her feet.

Lysithea finishes it for her as she falls down beside, before shouting, “Do you have any idea what’s going on?”

Hilda’s Ghost is the one to answer, materialising for a moment. “Killing these Scorn seems to charge this well. For what, I’m uncertain.”

“And if we don’t kill them?”

“I don’t know.”

Lysithea ducks under a swipe before her hand shoots out, deep purple expanding out and throwing the Stalker back. “You transmat out, and I'll run, meet you outside?”

“And if these guys follow you out?” Hilda swipes her Ghost out of the way of a shot, fingers curled protectively around him before he shimmers out of physical existence. "Or, hell, if this thing just keeps spawning these?"

“Only one real choice, then.” Lysithea grimaces. “You're gonna have to cover for me a lot."

Hilda grins at her, and brings out her four-barreled gun while swapping her Rig for Graviton Forfeit. "Could use a little post-meal stretch."

As she fights she circles around the edge, allowing Lysithea to keep her back to the centre while dealing with the Scorn. When the sculpted pit grows crowded, Hilda shrouds the two of them with a smoke bomb. The first time Lysithea immediately breaks stealth, not expecting it, but Hilda steps in without hesitation, using body and bullet as barrier while Lysithea recovers. Not for the first time, Lysithea's struck by how Hilda holds herself, broad shoulders unflinching as claws come down.

She shakes the thought away quickly, and tosses her grenade over Hilda's head. "I'm good! Sorry about that!"

Hilda snaps a thumbs up before throwing her own. "I'll warn you next time."

And she does, a quick shout and touch to Lysithea’s shoulder before she hides them both again. Lysithea leaps up onto the central platform, then up again, twisting and focusing the Light within her as she does to throw her Super toward the edge of the pit. A Chieftain spawns in time to look up and see death bloom before its particles are thrown apart. Purple dances across half the circle and scours it of Scorn.

Hilda whoops while dodging away from a Screeb before it explodes. “Oh, that’s _ hot_!”

“Really?” Lysithea shoots her an exasperated look, doing her best to ignore how genuine Hilda’s delight seems. It distracts her, lingers past its time in her head.

Predictably, Hilda’s unrepentant. “I’m a simple Guardian; I see what I like and call it like I see it.” She pauses, cocking her head a moment before heading through one of the archways set into the pit’s walls. “Guess we’re only part way done—over here!”

Lysithea follows her into the fog, albeit at a slower pace, taking how the dome seems larger than it was when she first came in, the line of light to the flower-like machine Hilda approaches ahead, and the fog. There had to be a reason for their arrangement, but what?

Theories start to sprout, but they evaporate as Lysithea staggers, pain spilling over her head. She glances around for what hit her and finds nothing when the sensation takes her again, leaves her on the floor, the air thick, clogging in her throat. It presses her down, and before she can recover, a third beat saps the strength in her limbs.

The fog, she realises distantly. Some part of it's killing her.

There's a tug around her neck and Lysithea's yanked forward by her robes. Her next gasp brings her blessedly clear air. Hilda crouches down in front of her, hands moving to her shoulders to right her, eyes seeking Lysithea's. "Lysie? Lysie, c'mon."

Focus returns sluggishly, but Lysithea mumbles,"I told you, don't call me that." 

Hilda lets out a gusty breath. "Got you talking, didn't it?" She can't quite shake a quiver in the corner of her smile, nor the fear at the edge of her eyes. She looks up with a scowl when Scorn howls ring out. "We're further from the exit now, so that's out."

"I'll use my rift, when I can, but my abilities come back slow. I'm not going to be able to heal up until then." Lysithea curses under her breath. "Wish I owned Karnsteins right about now."

"...We'll talk about that when we get out of here." Hilda eases her up so she can lean against the petals of the machine before she stands straight, rolls her shoulders. "Uh, maybe pray this works. I haven't done this in ages."

Alarm gives Lysithea the strength to lift her head up. "Haven't done what?"

Hilda doesn't reply, head bowed over one hand. Light shimmers between her fingers, and Lysithea stares baffled; a smoke bomb wouldn't hide her that long.

Then Hilda throws her hand out and down by her side in a familiar gesture, and a healing rift chases the last of the pain out of Lysithea's frame. 

Hilda allows herself a sigh of relief and a low chuckle at Lysithea's shock, before sobering. "I'll explain after, alright? For now just sit pretty here. Ah, but if you feel okay to fight, hop back in at any time!" 

Then she swings around, hand coming back, a small hammer—no, an axe—forming in it from fiery Light, which she throws into the face of one Scorn before following it into the fray.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *lies down* I actually had to split this chapter because it was going to get even more dense on the fight writes, and my brain is steamed from thinking of progressing it further in one chapter. As is I think it's the longest chapter I've written for anything. So I hope you all enjoy! I had a lot of fun scheming up the most Cursed way to eat noodles with yash, that's for sure.
> 
> Hilda's ship: Summertide Kite.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hilda is honest, there's some outside aid, Lysithea leans on emotion and logic, and Hilda goes back to being close-lipped again.

Hilda never strays far from where Lysithea sits.

Lysithea can only gape at first, watching Hilda dance and smash through their foes, stepping back to safe air as she needs. At one point she drops her axe to leap into the air, and comes crashing down in a wave of Arc on a group, including an oddly shimmering enemy. 

An orb coalesces from its body, only to disappear when Hilda runs over it. She pauses, then grins wide before swinging towards the remainder, including a Chieftain with a white shield who'd proved impervious thus far. She dashes through them, and those around the Chieftain disintegrate in crackling blue, while its shield finally breaks. Hilda's quick to follow up with another charge, and as it dies several of the orbs appear. Hilda turns and darts back to Lysithea's side, pointing to the nearest. "Pick one up!"

She hesitates, air warping the view of the room around her, but there's no fear in Hilda's eyes anymore; she nods encouragingly. Lysithea swallows, then dashes forward, spinning about as she runs over the nearest to beeline to safety.

The surge of Light leaves her stunned, breath leaving her in a soft sound of surprise while its power leaves every part of her warm, no fraction untouched. It's the strongest the Light's ever shone within Lysithea-4. 

Still aware of the closing danger, she leaps back into the circle of safety, twisting as she does to throw Void light forward. Again her field of vision fills with sangrian death, but this time, it doesn't leave her Light as mere embers, her abilities distant, transient promises. They're tools to wield freely, and she throws another grenade down a few seconds later. It feels _right_.

Hilda, bright-eyed with excitement and some emotion Lysithea can't identify, says, "Forget Karnsteins. What you need is Nezarec's Sin."

That stirs Lysithea from her revelry, and she shakes her head out with a huff. "I have to worry about my health first, and in any case, I doubt this is permanent. Something this, this powerful, couldn't be."

"Even so, you could do some real damage with the right gun, maybe circumvent some of your Light trouble. But either way! Let's deal with these guys first, and enjoy this juice while it lasts." 

Lysithea can't deny the sparks of excitement that Hilda throws off, and a smile kindles slowly. "Not the worst idea I've heard from a Hunte—not the worst idea I've heard."

That's all Hilda needs to jump right back in with a whoop. Lysithea remains in the clean air, but when Hilda comes back, she steps out, picks up the buff again, and throws around as much power as she can, sowing the place with explosions.

They continue this at each well, until Hilda shouts to move onto the next. After the third, the fog clears, and Lysithea blinks uncertainly at her teammate until the sound of more Scorn draws their attention back to the centre. Two massive Chieftains stand and roar. One doesn't even flinch when Hilda shoots a rocket in its face, the white shimmer around it refusing to part. "Another shield," she mutters, "Of course. What's the point of being a reality-warping fighter when things can go invincible?"

"Nothing's without its weak points." Lysithea sees more Scorn forming at one Chieftain's feet, and tosses a preemptive grenade. There's a heartbeat where she sees a dozen Screebs, and they explode—and to Lysithea's delight, they take the shield out with it. "See?"

"You didn't know that was going to happen." She makes no effort to hide her amusement.

"_You_ don't know that," Lysithea eloquently retorts. "Now come on, are we killing these Scorn or what?"

"Pushy, pushy," Hilda sighs, "But as the Warlock wishes." She bounces once on the spot before lunging forward.

Lysithea works her way around the edge of the room to the raised platforms. From there she prioritises on giving Hilda as much space as possible to rain destruction on the first giant. While some enemies drop orbs, she doesn't dare step into the fray to grab one now.

"Bye!" Hilda shouts singsong, and the first titanic Chieftain crumples beneath her fall and fists, the last burst of her Super clearing the space around her. She spins about and heads for the next, and Lysithea follows her path across the centre of the room—

"Fuck!"

—and hastily turns to run as Screebs rise up and turn as one on her. Too close, they're too close for her to even backpedal and shoot and she sprints up to where she'd stood before, praying it'd be far enough to escape, daring a glance over her shoulder when she jumps. Hilda's trying to cut in-between, but she's in no position to intercept. They'd been careless, the both of them, let the power rush override forbearance. 

No time for more than a moment of regret though. The nearest leaps, and Lysithea dives.

The sound of Arc charging sizzles the air, and a bolt catches the Screeb at the apex of its leap. The horde explodes. Blue splatters harmlessly on the floor, the scorch marks just short of Lysithea's feet when she glances back. A breath judders needlessly in her chest before she forces herself up and forward again, eyes darting about for more enemies spawning near her. But there's none near now. Lysithea sends up a silent thanks to whoever's listening. They're now only showing up on the other side.

Down in the centre, Hilda pauses, glancing between Lysithea, the entrance to this room, and these new Scorn. Her face is hidden by her mask, but hesitation reveals itself in her stillness.

Lysithea waves towards them. "I'm fine! I'm alright!" Her breaths still come harshly. "Finish this!"

There's a moment where Hilda stays where she is, and Lysithea thinks she's going to come back to her anyway, but when she waves again, Hilda nods, fist lifted to her forehead in a quick salute. She turns and leaps back up to the Scorn, greeting them with the bark of her gun. When the Screebs again spawn around their Captain's feet, she's ready for them. The tripmine blows them and the shield away. Axe forming once more, she swings in a fiery arc, and the Captain roars as it crumples to a knee. There's a moment where it lifts its armoured head to look at Hilda, almost eye to eye.

Then she brings the head of her axe back, and over her again with a leap, and the body disintegrates beneath the burning Light.

For a moment all's still. Then the remaining Scorn wick away, running perhaps, or no longer held here by whatever force called them, leaving Hilda and Lysithea alone. Alive.

Lysithea lets herself drop to the ground with a shaky sigh, and presses her face into her hands; she's distantly aware of a chest manifesting by the central platform between her fingers, but she finds it a fragmented, slippery thought, mind fumbling to take hold and act upon it.

Hilda also ignores the chest, instead coming to crouch down beside Lysithea. There's a gentle but firm pressure to the small of Lysithea's back. It draws Lysithea's focus together again, like a magnet drawn over iron filings, aligning her thoughts into something approaching order. "So," she says, "In review: let's not do that again."

Lysithea snorts. A beat, then laughing on longer, shoulders shaking. "Let's not," she agrees once she recovers. "Not without more information, anyway." She draws her hands down her face before letting them fall in her lap. "I'll have to find, whomever shot that bolt. Saved my life there."

Hilda nods, and stretches her legs out before her as she sits down fully, knee knocking against Lysithea's. She brings out her Ghost, letting him float down toward the chest. They watch him in silence as the chest contents dematerialise, and Hilda reaches out to touch his shell with a smile when he returns. Lysithea watches him bob into her touch, some unspoken conversation held in the flex of his shell's parts before he's gone out of sight again. 

She wonders what it's like, to know someone for so long that there's no need to speak, that you can make your mind known wholly through fractional motion.

Hilda turning to her draws her attention outward. She speaks low, but clear. "I'll be honest, Lysithea, I don't know that I'm the right sort of Guardian to be watching your back."

The words reach into Lysithea's chest and twist. "You mean—" She internally curses how weak her voice sounds to her, looks straight ahead instead of at Hilda. "Can't blame you, I guess. Escorting others around isn't usually what Guardians are interested in."

Hilda shakes her head, a sharp motion Lysithea feels more than sees. "Not what I meant."

"You don't have to spare my feelings."

"It's _not_ that." She makes a frustrated sound, but when she reaches over, it's to place her fingers over Lysithea's, drawing over the back of her hand before settling. "Running around with you, it's been the most fun I've had in—not gonna say how many years—but a long while. But you nearly died because I'm so used to just having to keep an eye on what's a danger to me, and just me."

Her voice twists tight at the end, a jab of anger punctuating, and Lysithea realises with a jolt Hilda's shaken, an undercurrent of fear in there, that had been the whole time, that Lysithea only recognises now. She looks back at Hilda to find her staring at her other hand, curled and pressed against her thigh. "It's not your fault," she replies once she finally finds her tongue. "We both forgot to be careful."

"And I'm supposed to be looking out for you."

"My point is, we both have to get used to what it means for me, with Warlock powers but not immortality, to be fighting, and negotiate around that. Including," her voice turning reluctant, "what's beyond reasonable risk for me."

Hilda keeps her head tilted downward. "Maybe you should find, you know, a pair who'd be willing to fight with you, rather than just me. Two used to fighting in a team would be a lot safer than one loner."

Lysithea sets her jaw. She twists to better face Hilda, lifting her head with one hand. The mask makes it hard to be sure Hilda's actually looking at her; she doesn't move away from Lysithea's hand, at least. "I like fighting with you. You don't make me feel like I'm useless just because I'll die more easily. Plus, most Guardians don't really fight beside those without Light to bring them back, and we've been doing just fine until this. And all this, we weren't expecting. We've learnt from this, so don't…I trust you. And I want to work with you. Not some other already established team. You." 

Hilda stares for a long time, frozen still with Lysithea's hand at her jaw. But when she finishes, Hilda bows her head, a soft huff of a laugh bleeding the tension from her. "Well, how am I supposed to refuse when you put it like that?"

"You're not."

Another chuckle. "Alright, well! Don't know about you, but I could use a teensy break after all that. Good time to reorient ourselves, and maybe see if people have gathered any more info about this place back at the Tower. Like, here, and the Dreaming City in general."

"I'm fine with that." Lysithea stands, and Hilda rocks back and up onto her feet to follow.

As they descend the steps, Lysithea looks for whomever shot the Arc bolt that saved her. But there's no one. When they reach the Awoken guards, she asks, "Who else came by, while we were in there?"

They glance at each, then at her. "There hasn't been any other Guardians except you two."

Lysithea frowns. "Then did one of you…?"

One shakes their head. "We kept to our posts here."

She glances to Hilda, baffled. "Whomever shot that Screeb had to have come through here."

She hums, then shrugs in response. "Don't have any better ideas than you. But it's an oddity that kept you alive, so I won't question it too much." She steps along.

Lysithea does the same, albeit with a grumble. "I hate not knowing."

Hilda glances to her, amusement plain in the tilt of her head. "You wouldn't be you otherwise. But, you know, some answers aren't going to make themselves understood that easy. And! A little mystery makes things fun."

"Unanswerable questions aren't 'fun'. Finding answers is."

Hilda points. "And that's why you're a Warlock."

Lysithea huffs, but doesn't argue with her statement. Instead she asks, "Is how you use Warlock and Titan abilities under 'unanswerable questions'?"

There's a beat of silence, before Hilda pulls out her gun, dealing with the Taken ahead of them in a few clean shots. "Depends."

"On?"

"If you're going to tell other people." A knife this time, and another Taken sucked out of sight.

"Why don't you want them to know?"

"'Cause then they'd throw me at gods like that poor Pup. Or worse, make me teach. Very much not my jam, thank you." The last word pops in time with a dodge.

"Young Wolf," Lysithea instinctively corrects, and she throws a grenade forward to clear their path. It's good to fall into a rhythm again. "But fine. I won't tell, so long as you explain how you do it."

"Always about the how." She laughs softly. "Well then, question for you, oh Warlock Lysithea: were the Guardian classes always a thing?"

She blinks. "Well, no, during the time of Warlords… oh."

Hilda stops, and looks to her silently. The sky is, as it perpetually is here, bright behind her. So many years on her, Lysithea muses. She must have seen so many die final deaths. 

Another thought bubbles up. "...But most of the Iron Lords died."

"I was never with them. Never against them, mind you." She waggles a finger. "I think they had the right idea. Only thing to stop a Risen is another Risen. Did my own stopping too. But I took a different path before ending up in the City. Stayed a little while."

Lysithea does her best to process this new information, to make sense of the Guardian before her, and all her implications. She latches onto the next question that comes to mind. "Then why'd you leave? And when?"

"That..." Hilda says, leaning a little closer to Lysithea.

She leans in too, some unidentifiable weight pushing her nearer, curiosity reaching. "That…?"

"...Is unrelated to why I can do it all!" She laughs bright, and taps Lysithea's forehead as she straightens. "Sorry Lysie, but that's all the answers you get today."

Lysithea strangles a growl in her throat. "Why you little—don't call me Lysie!"

"Make me!" Hilda challenges, and she leaps away out of Lysithea's reach.

Lysithea lunges after her. "Insufferable," she shouts, "You're insufferable!"

"You love me," Hilda sings back, dodging Lysithea's haymaker, "And you're stuck with me. No takebacks!"

"Doesn't mean I won't strangle you if I get my hands on you. Now stay! Still!"

Hilda, predictably, does no such thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Squeezed this out between assignments, again. The desire to Not do something else is a powerful motivator, hahaha!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A shift in dynamics.

In the end, Lysithea manages to pay Hilda back for her antics before they leave for the City, tossing her head over heels in a moment of distraction. Hilda just cackles as she tumbles, breezy as ever, as if she hadn't thrown Lysithea's perspective of her in a similar manner, left her topsy-turvy and questioning all that she'd held as empirical regarding the Light. So she returns to the basics of filling knowledge gaps: questions, which she throws over ship comms at Hilda as they fly.

"Can you just cycle what you're using instantaneously?"

"I do need a moment, but more or less? Some things just come easier than others. When I was just a new baby Risen I found myself using Arc and Solar the most. Void, I didn't bother figuring that out until way later."

"Why Nightstalker, then?"

"The arrows are useful for big old mobs and support. Who doesn't love seeing orbs everywhere?"

"Fair enough. You use an axe a lot, though."

"Yeah, it's a form that comes pretty easily to me. Maybe I used one before. Like, before, before. You get it."

"Couldn't you have presented yourself as a Titan? Hammer is closer."

"Capes are so much cooler. What's a mark but a really tiny ass-cape anyway? And the shoulder pads are fashion death."

"…Really?"

"Listen, Ghosts can fix one kind of death. It's not that one."

She doesn't answer every question Lysithea poses, hums earned more often than the replies, especially when it comes to how she had learnt to use her Light the way she does. From who. When. Lysithea eventually resigns herself to the limits of Hilda's new openness. She's under no obligation to share all her history, after all. So Lysithea sticks to the 'what's of Hilda's abilities and doesn't attempt to pry out clearer responses on what Hilda manoeuvres around.

She does make note of those unanswered questions, though. Letting matters lie for now doesn't equate to letting them die.

When they reach the City and buy some food Hilda finally calls for an end to Lysithea's interrogation, refusing to even obliquely answer. "A girl's gotta have some secrets. And a regular, uninterrupted meal. Nothing's getting between me and some good salt cod, not even your insatiable desire for answers or your thinky face. So sit and have some egg tarts. If you're good I might let you have a bite of my fish."

Lysithea pulls a face. "I don't want your fish, thanks." She seats herself, still, already having passed her observations to Ikora. The tarts are warm and she can smell how buttery they are, see it in the flakiness. She's not going to turn down any pastry that golden brown.

"Your loss is my delicious, delicious gain." Hilda turns, pulls the plate closer to her, gets a heaping spoonful of fish, potato, onion, and cream baked together, and vanishes it all in one bite. The pleased noise in her throat is most definitely exaggerated.

But, Lysithea muses even as she rolls her eyes, the hyperbole roots itself in sincerity. There's a liveliness in the swing of her spoon as she scoops up another bite. Such a simple thing, and not unusual, but Hilda's clear enjoyment curls up in Lysithea's chest and warms her through. She can't stop a small smile.

Hilda glances over eventually, pausing mid-chew when her eyes meet Lysithea's. The corner of her mouth curls after she swallows. "What? Do I have something on my face?"

"No. Just thinking." Lysithea directs her glance elsewhere, her eyes landing on a trio of passing Guardians. "We should probably see what others have found. Once we're done eating," she adds, seeing Hilda open her mouth to protest.

She settles back down with a grin and another bite of food. "So you can learn to slow down. Good!"

Lysithea gives her a skeptical look. "I'm not moving fast."

"You're thinking about the Dreaming City when you have a delicious tart in front of you. Your mind is literal lightminutes away right now."

"I—okay, but that’s not that far, nor thinking that far ahead. There's nothing wrong with planning."

"There isn't! But you can't be worrying about work all the time. Gotta give even that big and powerful brain of yours a break. You can afford to not think about the next half-dozen things you have to do when we're not having a nice meal together." She taps Lysithea's plate, emphasising her words. "Of course, if you don't care that much for the tarts, I'd be happy to take them off your hands and—"

Lysithea pulls the plate closer to her, eyes narrowing. "Don't you dare."

Hilda gives a toothy smile. "You better focus on them then, lest they mysteriously disappear."

Lysithea takes the threat seriously, and keeps one eye on Hilda's hands as she finishes her food. Her wariness only amuses Hilda more, who makes a few playful swipes and pouts dramatically when Lysithea bats away her hands.

But they eventually manage, even with all the distractions, to finish their food in a timely fashion and clear their seats for more hungry people. They take their time heading to the hangar, occasionally stopping to talk to other Guardians, and slowly collect more information about the Dreaming City—Lysithea makes a mental note never to go through the ‘ascendant portals’ the others speak of.

When they pass by the vault consoles, Hilda veers over to a clear one, organising her new and old gear. Lysithea stares bemused when Hilda returns and pushes a Graviton Lance into her hands.

Bemusement promptly transforms into shock when Hilda also brings out a familiar horned helmet.

Hilda's eyes crinkle with amusement. "What? I did say you need it."

"This—it's too much of a risk."

"Except it's not, because you'll be able to keep your distance and use your abilities a little more. Karnsteins would force you to, you know, actually have to get in melee range. It'd be better if you just chomped a grenade in an emergency. And so, by transitive property, making sure you have one for said emergencies." She starts for the hangar again; Lysithea has to jog to catch up. "Besides, am I going to make more use of it than you? Unlikely. I've got my own exotics." She glances over, her hands settling at the back of her head, fingers interlacing. "It'll just be a testament to Guardian tendencies to hoard in the vaults otherwise, so! Take and actually use."

"…Thanks." Lysithea dips her head, overtaken by twin waves of fluster and gratefulness. Ikora had given her the Persuader waiting for her in her ship, yes, but this was different. Two exotics, for one thing. And while sniping suits her, what Hilda'd just given her suited her Light. It's…good, knowing that Hilda wants to stay, to keep fighting together. Very good.

To Lysithea's relief, Hilda doesn't comment on her fluster, just smiles and says, "Any time. You know, when I have more Warlock exotics to give."

"I think I'll be okay with just this. Really."

Hilda grins wider. “That’s a shame. I was thinking I could get you some new robes, maybe some new boots—”

“Please remember that I can only use what I can physically carry, with no Ghost.” Lysithea finds dryness easily again in the face of Hilda’s playfulness. “I can’t just transmat things on.”

“Well, I could hold onto stuff for you.”

“It’s fine. Plus, it’d probably be better for us overall if you have all the gear you’re used to to keep flexible, rather than a fraction of that and some things I’m not as familiar with.”

“Rational, I _guess_.” Hilda looks at her a moment too long, but she just stretches, rolling her shoulders forward and back before smiling at Lysithea, arms sweeping to one side in an exaggerated bow. "Well then. After you, oh most logical Warlock of our time. Guide us to the next Golden Age…!"

Lysithea finds she hasn't tapped all her wryness. "You think you're real funny, huh."

Her smile turns smug. Lysithea has to resist the only-slightly inane urge to smear it off Hilda's face. "Oh, I know I am. Now c'mon. Time we got back to the Awoken."

* * *

It takes the trip to the Dreaming City and a few skirmishes for Lysithea to become cognisant of it, but eventually she realises: something's wrong with Hilda.

Wrong, perhaps, is a strong word for it. But there is something off to her. Like she’s wrapped up in some thought, and her responses to the world come only after pushing through that layer.

But she teases Lysithea over ship comms as she did before, talking around anything personal from the past. And when she fights, it is with the sureness Lysithea has always seen.

It must come from the years of fights and survival, Lysithea muses after another short brawl with some Scorn, watching Hilda scout ahead again. Little must faze her now… or at least, she’s very good about focusing on what’s in front of her. Lysithea supposes that she’s also doing what she can to give back that sense of normalcy, washing away the marks the Blind Well had left on them.

Making up her mind, Lysithea strides forward to catch up. It would hardly be fair to not even ask, when Hilda had done so much for her. “Hilda, is something bothering you?”

She looks back at Lysithea, a flicker of surprise lifting her shoulders for a moment as she does. “Why do you ask?”

“You seem preoccupied. And I wondered if you wanted to talk about it.”

Hilda hums, and jumps up, backward, to a higher outcropping. “Just thinking about a question, is all.”

“Which is…?”

“A question about a potentially very touchy subject.” Her voice drops to a stage whisper. “One that, once asked, could upset delicate equilibria. The fabric of the universe.”

“I’m sure it’s not that bad.”

“You don’t know it for sure!”

“I don’t, it’s true. So that’s why I’d like to know what’s sitting on you. Two heads are better than one, and that.” Lysithea jumps and pulls herself up to stand beside Hilda.

For a long moment Hilda just looks at her, lips pursing as she considers. “It’s not a fun topic, Lys.”

““We’re a fireteam. I want to help you too, you know? You help me with my not-fun things, and I help you with yours.”

“Aw, you’re using my terminology.”

Lysithea’s stare flattens out. “No distractions, Hilda. Come on.” She reaches out to touch the back of Hilda’s hand. “Talk to me.”

“…Alright, fine. Since you asked so nicely. But just, not right now, okay?" She fiddles with the hood of her cape, adjusting how it sits about her hair and face. "Not right this second. I have to, think about how to talk about it.”

“Okay.” Lysithea tilts her head. “Can I ask the topic, at least?”

Hilda lets out a huff of a breath. Or maybe a nervous laugh. “’S a question about you, Lys.”

“Ah.” She struggles with what to respond to that, and settles on, “Have to admit that I’m dying to ask now.”

The admittance earns her a genuine chuckle and a fond, crooked grin, Hilda shifting her weight to one foot looking at Lysithea. “Yea, wouldn’t be you otherwise. But pinky-swear, I’ll tell you.”

Lysithea nods, and surveys the landscape, eyes trailing over the now-familiar paths and cliffs. “So what next? Public? Lost Sector? Maybe a check to see if the Techeuns need a hand with anything?”

“If I may?” Hilda’s Ghost materialises. “I didn’t want to interrupt, but Petra is hailing us. She wants to meet us behind the building the Oracle Engine’s in.”

Hilda and Lysithea share a look. “Behind it? Why? Did she say?”

“She did not. Only that someone wished to meet us, and talk. She said to be quick, though, she can’t leave her post for long.”

Hilda rocks back on her heels and hums before saying, “Well, if it’s something she has to move for, it’s probably big. Let’s get going?”

Lysithea nods, and when Hilda summons her Sparrow, sending a quick message to Petra that they’re coming, she hops in behind. Her curiosity, moments ago directed to Hilda now bubbles at this development, eager to see just what task Petra had in mind.

She’s already there when they arrive, knife spinning above one hand. When she catches sight of them she grabs it out of the air without looking, giving them a nod. “Thank you for going out of your way to come here. I know this is… irregular, but circumstances called for it.”

“It’s no problem, no problem,” Hilda reassures, stretching one arm behind her head, then the other. “Who’s the mystery guest you want us to meet?”

Petra hesitates for a moment. “Just promise not to immediately go for your guns. She wants to talk, and came to me to help, smooth said talk out.”

Baffled, Lysithea asks, “Why would we shoot?”

Petra doesn’t reply to her question. Instead she looks up the wall and nods, saying, “You can come down now.”

A Captain falls into view before them, and stands up slow, eyes on Hilda and Lysithea. She brings out two blades, and holds them out to the sides before bringing them in perpendicular to each other. A greeting, Lysithea dimly realises. "Velask, Lightbearers. May name me, Evelkharis. I wish to fight alongside." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Been a Wild couple of months in-between chapters, hey? But here it is. Short, but I wanted to end on that note. :3 Been looking forward to adding that tag. There's going to be a lot of talk next chapter. So much. And hopefully some honesty from Hilda.


End file.
